


A Year to Remember

by NiceGodzilla



Category: Gravity Falls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27461134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NiceGodzilla/pseuds/NiceGodzilla
Summary: The year is 2014 Dipper and Mabel Pines have just turned 15 and are freshman in high school in the town of Gravity Falls. Inseparable since birth, they both love each other very much, but Dipper begins to realize that the love he has for his twin sister may be more than platonic.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. First Day of School

A Year to Remember

Chapter 1: First Day of School

September 1, 2014  
...  
The sun rises on a clear and crisp late-summer morning. Birds that have awoken long before the citizens of Gravity Falls continue chirping their melodious tunes. The air is calm and cool, having yet to be heated up by the sun's rays.

I'm aware of an annoying sound filling the room. My brain defogs moments later enabling me to realize that an alarm clock is playing some lousy, dime a dozen pop song.

I clench my teeth and press my pillow up against my ears to block out the noise, soon faintly making out the sound of the bed adjacent to mine creaking. The annoying song stops and is replaced with a common greeting.

"Good morning, Dipper!" A feminine voice chirps to me, even more upbeat than the chirping coming from the birds outside the triangular window looking out over the bedroom.

I groan in response. As much as I want to return the gesture with the same amount of enthusiasm, I just can't summon the energy to do so. Not now. Not this early in the morning, on the first day of school no less.

I hear her softly place her feet on the floor and briskly walk over to me. She firmly places her hands on where one of my shoulders is and begins to shake me like an out of order vending machine.

"You alive? Come on! It's the first day of school. You don't want to be late on your first day of high school do you, Dipmeister?"

In all my 15 years of life, I just can't understand how my twin sister Mabel can almost always be so energetic and ecstatic. "There's still plenty of time," I say, my voice muffled, but still intelligible from under the blanket.

Mabel stops shaking me, I assume to take another look at the clock.

"Well, all right. I'm gonna go take a shower."

I let out another groan.

"If you don't beat me to the bathroom, I may just end up using all the hot water."

No hot water in exchange for a few extra minutes of rest? I decide to accept that offer.

Mabel steps out of the room and is back in what feels like only a few seconds later.

"Your turn," she says.

"Huh…?" I remove the covers from my face to see Mabel standing before me; hair still wet, wrapped in nothing but a pink towel, a bright smile on her face showing perfectly straight teeth. She used to wear braces but had had them removed over the summer, now she shows off her radiant smile whenever she can. It's almost enough to distract my mind from circling back to the fact that she's only wearing a towel. I can make out her developing breasts pressed firmly between her arm and chest.

"Gah, Mabel!" I shriek. "Do you mind?"

"Sorry," she says in a way that tells me she doesn't see what the big deal is, "I forgot to bring an extra set of clothes with me to the bathroom."

I groan and begin to get up.

"No wait, don't look!" She cries and begins to lose her grip on the towel.

I yelp and bury my head back underneath the blanket.

"I'm just messing with you, bro," She laughs and lightly punches me with her free hand.

I scowl at her as I get out of bed and make my way towards the bathroom, making sure to remember to grab my clothes that I'd set out the previous night for today as well.

And of course, Mabel used up all the hot water.

I resist the urge to cry out as the sharp pin sensation of the water beads assaulting my body cause me to seize and then convulse. I hurry up and wash myself in record time, wishing that I could wash the memory of my nearly indecent sister from my mind as well, but the thought continues to linger for some reason. Her radiant smile between her two rosy cheeks… The ones on her face, of course. Water slowly dripping down her wet hair and lean arms and legs, a few droplets resting comfortably on her budding breasts. I quickly shake those thoughts out of my head.

As soon as I'm done showering and dressed in my usual getup of a red t-shirt, dark blue vest, tan cargo shorts and hat (luckily the schools in Gravity Falls aren't strict about students wearing hats), my senses begin to detect a smell lingering in the air. The unmistakable smell of sizzling bacon. I race downstairs to find my Gruncle Stan dressed in his usual morning attire: wife beaters and boxers. My sister and I call him Gruncle because he's our great uncle. Clever, am I right?

"Morning fresh meat—I mean freshman," he jokingly greets.

"Morning." I respond and make my way to the kitchen table where Mabel is sitting at as well, fork and knife in hand. I can see that she's wearing a pink fluffy sweater that looks like it belongs to a suburban 1980's mom.

I take my seat and not long after, Gruncle Stan sets the breakfast on the plates in front of us; scrambled eggs and bacon, can't go wrong with those.

"I can't believe you little devils are already freshman," he says, "It seems like just yesterday that I got the call that my nephew's wife was having twins and now look at you, just turned 15 yesterday and going into high school." He pauses, as though he's remembering my sister's and I's parents fondly. "I'm sure they'd both be very proud of you two."

Mabel and I both smile softly at that. Our parents passed away unexpectedly three years ago, and our Gruncle Stan was the only family member who was able to take care and provide for us. We have other family members, sure, but every Summer our parents would send my sister and I to his home in Gravity Falls, Oregon for some much-needed fresh air from the dirty California smog. We had been so used to staying with him, that he'd become like a third parent to us. He loves us both dearly, and we both love him.

Soon, we both finish our breakfast, put the dishes and silverware in the sink and make our way towards the front door where our shoes and backpacks are waiting for us.

Grunkle Stan sees us off. "Have a wonderful day you two," he says, kissing Mabel on the head and patting me on mine.

"We will!" Mabel says.

I wave, wishing I could say the same as we begin the not too long trek to school. Unfortunately, in a not so big town like Gravity Falls with a population of approximately eight thousand there's no school buses or anything. Normally it's not a big deal on a beautiful day like today, but when the weather is bad, it can be a big pain.

Some cars pass us as we walk at a leisurely pace on the sidewalk. Some probably with adults driving heading to work, others probably high school seniors heading to the same place we are. At one point a black Chevy pickup truck passes us, almost seeming to slow down as it does, I can't see who's driving it because all of the windows are slightly tinted just enough to obscure the view inside. I wonder if that's even legal before the truck speeds off.

Oh well, it's none of my business what people do with their vehicles. My only business right now is getting to school.

I don't mind school, it's just that, unlike Mabel, I have trouble making friends. Even some of the friends I've made in Gravity Falls tend to be a few years older than me because I'm pretty mature for my age. Even so, I usually keep to myself and spend time reading and writing. I have a big interest in the paranormal and supernatural, it's one of the many reasons I like staying with Grunkle Stan. He owns a place called the Mystery Shack where he displays oddities and sells souvenirs. It's quite the attraction to tourists but usually only in the Summer. Now that that's nearly over, business will most likely slow down. But the town does have quite the reputation when it comes to hauntings and cryptids, drawing in amateur bigfoot researchers and ghost hunters who usually stop by to scope out the place. Unfortunately, I've never witnessed anything unexplainable myself, but fingers crossed.

Mabel tries to make conversation with me, but my mind is elsewhere; like to my old house in California; what would I be doing right now if I still lived there? I'd probably be on a nice, air-conditioned bus to a school where the student population would be over three thousand. A lot of them being jocks who would shove me in lockers and girls who would be more obsessed with looking pretty than showing human decency.

Then my mind shifts to my great uncle's Mystery Shack, will he honestly be able to keep up with that place for much longer? I mean, the man is in his early 60's, he may be fit for his age, but not even he can hold that place up forever, I wouldn't mind taking charge of that place should he ever retire, but still, the times are always changing, how long will people be interested in a place like the Mystery Shack? People can easily just look up oddities on their smart phones, stream all kinds of mystery shows and whatnot on fancy gadgets. I was never too keen on getting the latest iPhone or video game console. I'm quite content with old Nintendo systems and flip phones. How long until Television dies, too? Shows are always coming and going I can't even recall what the most popular basic cable TV show is at the moment. It's all about premium channels now. Isn't one of the most popular shows on right now, some kind of fantasy show about incest or something?

That question makes my mind wander to Mabel when she was covered in nothing but a wet towel. What if she really did lose her grip on that piece of cloth? I imagine her freaking out and trying desperately to cover her breasts and lady parts while I can't bring myself to look away.

I have to physically shake those thoughts out of my head for what's already the second time today.

I then notice Mabel looking at me expectedly, like she just asked me a question.

"Huh?" I mutter, probably looking like an idiot who has never spoken a single coherent sentence in his life.

She looks away and casts her gaze down at the sidewalk, "Nothing," she says, sounding a little disappointed, the slightest hint of a frown on her face.

I feel like the biggest jerk in the world right now. My sister is trying to talk to her closest and only living first-degree blood relative and here I am just too engrossed in my own little world to listen to her.

Just then a loud, low-pitched voice calls out to us and we change our attention to the path ahead of us and see a short Asian girl with straight, dark hair and glasses; and a plump, light-skinned girl with brown hair done up in a ponytail waving at us at an upcoming juncture. We recognize them as Mabel's friends; Candy being the shorter one and Grenda being the more rotund one who called out to us.

I'm relieved to see Mabel's face brighten up before she hurries a few yards ahead of me to greet her friends with hugs. They all talk excitedly like they haven't seen each other in months, even though they literally hung out with Mabel yesterday, during her and I's birthday party. While I am somewhat friendly with these two girls, I kind of wish I could have friends like Mabel does, friends who share the same interests as me and aren't into things like boy bands and makeovers.

The four of us continue making our way to school. I'm glad Mabel has someone else to talk to now besides me. I just focus on the direction ahead as the girl's voices drone on. I've learned to drown them out at this point, a sort of defense mechanism my brain has developed to help me fall asleep whenever Mabel would have the two girls over for slumber parties and they'd spend all night singing karaoke and playing truth or dare.

The school comes into view; It's a modest brick building, that has grown from a single classroom from when this town was founded to the well-expanded upon double story rectangle that can hold around one thousand students. It would still pale in comparison to what my high school back in California would be like.

There are students milling about in the schoolyard; some standing around chatting, others standing in groups texting (presumably each other), others are looking confused as they look down at pieces of paper in their hands probably trying to figure out what to do or where to go.

We reach the school right as a white limousine pulls up in front of it. Several students stop what they're doing and look at it. Even Mabel and her friends cease chatting momentarily to glance at the thirty-foot-long vehicle. An emblem on the side of it don the letters N.W.

I already have a feeling I know who is inside the luxurious vehicle before they even step out of it.

The chauffeur briskly, but classily makes his way to one of the doors and opens it.

The passenger's Ugg boots come into view before the rest of them does, and out steps a blonde girl wearing a purple jacket over a lavender skirt.

I can't see her eyes behind a dark pair of sunglasses resting on her face, but I imagine that they're closed all high and mighty like as she strolls at a leisurely pace past her chauffeur without saying a word, her hoop earrings swaying with every step. She gives off an arrogant and snotty vibe, her nose is literally held high, like she's too good for this school and the people in it.

"Ew, is that Pacifica Northwest?" Grenda blurts out.

"I thought she was homeschooled." Candy says.

I don't know why Pacifica is here instead of at her mansion with a private tutor, or attending a private school like how I assume most kids who come from wealthy families are educated, but I don't care. I just want to get to my locker as soon as possible, but no one else is moving, they're all still watching the spoiled rich girl walk into the building, not paying anyone the slightest bit of attention. I wonder if she is just putting on an act of not caring, she probably secretly enjoys the attention she's getting, having all eyes on her. It's no different from getting hundreds on likes on Instagram.

As soon as Pacifica is out of the picture, the limo drives away and life resumes on the school yard. Several of the kids are probably speculating among themselves as to the reason why the scene that just played out in front of them happened. I even hear Mabel and her friends begin to talk about Pacifica.

None of it matters to me, though. She's just a kid whose being forced to attend school like the rest of us. My only goal right now is to find my locker and get to the auditorium to attend freshman orientation.

With my sister and her friends only a few paces behind me, I enter the building.

...

The lobby of the school is even more active than the school yard. Kids are still standing around talking, presumably about mundane things like how their Summer's went and where they spent it, or what classes they have. I have to squirm to get past the ones inconsiderate enough to engage in conversation right in the middle of the hallway, Mabel is holding on to my backpack like a kid to a parent's hand, not wanting to get separated in the jostling crowd. I throw back a few quick glances to make sure she's still right behind me.

Mabel bids farewell to Candy and Grenda as her and I reach the hall where our assigned lockers are (Candy heads to a different section of the hallway since she too is a freshman, Grenda heads to the sophomore section of the school since she is a year ahead of us). The school was kind enough to put my sister and I's lockers next to each other, but I groan internally when I spot Pacifica directly next to my locker as well. She looks somewhat annoyed at having to put her school supplies away all by herself, like she's used to having someone else doing even the simplest of tasks for her.

I try my best to avoid looking in her direction as I imitate her and everyone else's actions of entering my locker combination and putting away or keeping the necessary school supplies. Thankfully, she doesn't even acknowledge my existence and shuts her locker with what might be more force than is necessary before walking off.

As soon as I'm done attending to my locker, I shut it with the proper amount of force and wait for Mabel to put her things away. Thing is, though, she's brought a lot more things than I did: foam letter stickers to spell out her name with, pictures of the lead singer from her favorite boy band Sev'ral Timez, pictures of cute animals and group pictures of her and her friends.

If I had a wristwatch right now, I'd be looking at it like a baby boomer losing his patience. "Hurry Mabel or we're gonna be late," I say.

She snickers. "You're worried about being later for orientation?"

I sigh in exasperation. I've always been the more responsible and organized of the two of us. And while I've learned to be patient with her over the years sometimes her carefree attitude is almost a little too carefree, which makes me ponder how she'd do without me having to occasionally reel her back into reality.

She still continues to take her sweet time; she even begins to hum a cheerful tune to herself which almost feels like it's out of spite.

Eventually she does finish sprucing up her locker with only five minutes left to spare.

"Lead the way, brother," she instructs, and I sigh again with relief this time.

…

We reach the auditorium just in the nick of time. I take a random seat near the back. Mabel sits next to me.

There are still some kids talking by the time a man who is most likely the principal makes his way to the center of the stage. A gray-haired man who appears to be in his mid-sixties and whose toupee is obvious even from back where I'm sitting.

He greets everyone with a "Good morning!" Hardly anyone says anything back and even the kids that do return the greeting do so half-heartedly. He then introduces himself and begins a spiel that I can only assume he has recited at least a dozen times by now, only changing the year of when our class will be graduating. He brings up the history of the school, academics, extracurricular activities, what to expect within the coming years. It takes everything I have to keep my head up and not let my eyes droop. I turn towards Mabel and while she has the same disinterested look on her face as well, she at least does a better job of paying attention.

The defense mechanism of tuning people out subconsciously returns, and the principal's voice becomes hollow and muffled. My gaze on my twin sister lingers longer than I initially intend it to, and she meets my gaze from the corner of her eye. A slight smirk forms on the corners of her mouth, like she thinks my looking at her is that of a game or a challenge.

I look away and try my best to brush it off, but my cheeks feel like there is heat radiating off them for some reason.

Eventually, the principal gives his closing statements and ends the speech with an enthusiastic "Go Beavers!"

Some kids laugh at that, others cheer.

I do nothing but stand up and stretch, if you'd asked me to repeat a single line from the principal's speech right now besides Go Beavers, I would not for the life of me be able to.

Mabel and I make our way to the exit with the rest of the crowd.

I turn to her and ask, "Do you know where your first period class is?"

She waves me off, "Of course I do, it's that way," she turns and points, then a dubious look forms on her face, "Or… is it that way?" she points in an entirely different direction.

"Mabel…" I start, but she interrupts me.

"I'm just messing with you, bro," she chuckles and lightly punches me on the arm for the second time that morning.

I sigh. I really have to stop letting Mabel fool me like that.

"Okay," I say, casually playing off her joke, "See you at lunch."

She returns my saying and holds out a fist for me to bump, which I do. Then, for the first time that morning, the two of us go our separate ways.

…

The first half of the day passes with relative ease, in typical first day of school fashion, all of the classes involve everyone introducing themselves and saying at least three interesting things about each other, eventually ending with the teachers explaining future lessons and what we'll go over for the semester.

Lunch period eventually breaks the mold, it's there where the freshman have a chance to interact and mingle with upperclassman, most decide to sit with people their own age, though. I pay for a modest lunch containing almost every member of the food group while Mabel's sweet tooth gets the better of her causing her lunch to consist of nothing but cookies and cupcakes.

"Mabel if you only get junk food to eat, you'll end up losing your teeth and I'm pretty sure dentures are worse than braces," I tell her.

Mabel shrugs. "If the good lord didn't want me to eat sweets, then she wouldn't have put them all on the menu."

She? I think to myself… eh, whatever.

As I expected all the lunch tables seem to consist of certain cliques: emos, goths, nerds, band geeks, pretty boys and girls, jocks.

Not sure which group Mabel and I would belong to.

Luckily, we spot Candy and Grenda at a table with other non-conspicuous looking teens and they wave us over.

We join them, Mabel sitting closest to them. They begin to talk excitedly among themselves while I just focus on eating my food, only momentarily chiming into their conversation whenever necessary.

My eyes begin to wander, nonchalantly gazing over the room; seeing random faces that my mind will forget the moment they leave my vision, their conversations lost in the cacophony of their fellow classmates' voices.

That's when my eyes pick up something that actually hold my attention.

The jocks, most of them look to be seniors, all sitting several tables away, but still within my line of sight. If I had to guess, I'd say they were all on the school's football team.

I don't know if it's paranoia, but I swear I catch them throwing quick glances toward our direction. I also don't know if they've noticed me noticing them or if they just don't care that I can tell that they're talking about us.

At first, I assume they're just talking trash about me and the others at my table, but the more I watch, the more I can tell that they're only focused on one member of our group: My sister, Mabel.

I wonder if she's the object of their attention because of her sweater, It wouldn't be the first time that her fashion choice has garnered a few bemused stares, but the more I watch the more I notice some malice in their gazes.

One teen among them seems to be leading the conversation. Even though he's sitting I can still tell that he's tall and wiry. Everyone in the group keeps turning to him and speaking to him and every time he says something, they all seem to chuckle sinisterly.

I have the sudden urge to protectively pull Mabel close to me, my appetite now completely gone.

I don't know if I'm being unreasonable right now. Mabel always tells me that I'm overly cautious, almost to a cynical degree. But I refuse to give anyone the benefit of the doubt when it comes to my twin sister.

I spend the remainder of the lunch period staring at the older group of teens, not taking my eyes off of them, not even caring if they notice. Even when Mabel or one her friends speak to me; I respond to them without even turning to face them.

The bell rings and it's time to go finish off the remainder of the day.

I say goodbye to Mabel and don't take my eyes off of her until she's completely out of view. I then turn to the jocks and they've already dispersed. Seeing as though the senior hall is at the complete opposite end of the building, far away from the freshman hall, I tell myself that there's nothing to worry about and go my own way as well.

…

The rest of the day goes just like the beginning does: introductions to classmates and curriculums.

It's not until the dismissal bell rings that I feel reinvigorated. I make my way past the bustling crowd to meet Mabel back at our lockers. I ask her how her day went, and she says it was fine.

I don't blame her for only using one word to describe the first day of school. What more could you say about a day that was spent mostly introducing yourself to people you're probably never going to talk to or see outside of the building, or talking about subjects you'll never use a single day in your life once you graduate?

She asks me the same question and I give her the same answer, only I'm hurriedly filling my backpack with the necessary supplies to take home with me before a certain rich girl shows up next to my locker.

Once all that is done, we begin to make our way towards the exit with several other students who are just as eager to leave the building as we are. Only Mabel stops once we pass a rack mounted to the wall holding a bunch of pamphlets advertising school clubs and extracurricular activities.

"What's up?" I stop walking to ask her, ignoring the few fellow students who accidentally bump against my arm to get past me.

Her eyes are scanning the rack quickly glossing over several brochures as if she already knows what she's looking for. A hint of recognition finally forms on her face and she quickly grabs a brochure and then just about shoves it in my face.

It happens so swiftly that I have to take a step back to gauge what just happened.

I examine the cover of the brochure; I immediately recognize the sport that it's promoting. A person on the cover wearing a matching white visor and polo shirt and tan-colored pants is swinging a club.

"Golf?" I say.

"Yeah," she excitedly exclaims and brings the brochure too her chest, her eyes looking up dreamily. "I've always wanted to try golf."

I shake my head like a perplexed cartoon character. "Wait, really? What brought this on?"

Mabel looks back at me. "Remember how much fun we'd have playing Mario Golf and going mini-golfing and stuff like that? It always made me want to experience the real thing, and now I've finally decided that this year is going to be the year I get into the swing of things." She pretends to do a golf swing to accentuate the pun. She eagerly awaits my response with her hands on her hips, head tilted and her mouth hanging open excitedly.

I rub the back of my neck. "I dunno, Mabel. I feel like video games and mini golf are completely different from the real thing.

She waves me off. "Oh pffft, says the guy I beat every time we'd play."

"Not every time," I say, defensively.

She holds up an index finger. "Name one time, you've beaten me at anything golf related."

"I…uh… there was that one time where… I almost beat you… but then… I didn't – but only because... uh..."

She starts to giggle.

I groan. As much as I want to support Mabel and her interests, the realist in me wants to remind her that she might be setting herself up for disappointment. But she just seems so happy and giddy, that I'm not sure if I'll be able to drag her down to earth this time.

Might as well try, though.

"Look Mabel, if you really want to do this, then you'll probably have to play against kids who have been playing golf their entire life."

"Mabel Pines never backs away from a challenge," she refers to herself in third person, while striking a Superman pose.

"You'll need to buy a set of golf clubs; I'm pretty sure they can be expensive." I then add.

"Gruncle Stan has a set stored away in the attic."

"You'll probably need to buy the proper golf attire."

"Yay! Shopping spree!"

I frantically search for any other excuse to give Mabel the tiniest bit of reservation but can find none.

The crowd of kids passing us by has slowed to a crawl. The sound of echoed voices from beyond the hall bound through the passageway.

My eyes then detect a certain blonde approaching, even Mabel seems to sense a commanding presence, we both look to see Pacifica approaching, nose still held high like it was this morning. She notices us before was have a chance to look away. She slows momentarily, casting judgmental gazes at both Me and my sister. She then regards the brochure Mabel is holding. A scoff leaves her mouth and she continues on her merry way.

What's her problem? I think to myself, bitterly. I then turn back to Mabel and see her looking down, forlornly at the golf pamphlet, the enthusiastic look on her face has vanished completely. The small, wordless interaction with the snooty rich girl seems to have wounded her.

I frown, no longer caring about what is or isn't realistic. If golf is important to Mabel, then it's important to me, too.

"You know what Mabel?" I say, my words compelling her eyes to meet mine, "I think you should definitely take a swing at Golf."

A broad smile spreads over Mabel's face and she squeals with excitement and bounces up and down from foot to foot. The sudden burst of emotion causes the last of the lingering teens to shoot us irritated glances.

Mabel doesn't even notice them; I just smile awkwardly at them and shrug.


	2. The Swing of Things

A Year to Remember

Chapter 2: The Swing of Things  
...  
Gruncle Stan is thrilled when Mabel tells him that she wants to take up golfing as soon as we arrive home from school. The mere mention of the sport incites him to go into a rave; reminiscing about old times, old golf buddies and some of the best games of golf he's ever played while Mabel looks on with a bright smile on her face.

The ramblings of our great uncle never falter for a second as he heads into a hallway, pulls on a cord dangling from the ceiling and climbs the ladder retracting down from the attic.

I just watch this all unfold with my hands in my pockets. Mabel is now staring up at the ceiling where the hole leads into the attic, hands clasped together; the voice of Gruncle Stan has become muffled. There is the distinct sound of rummaging and boxes being scooted around.

"A-ha!" He finally says and reappears moments later carrying a long brown leather bag over his shoulder, the metallic heads of the golf clubs poking out.

He presents them to Mabel, and she picks one out, the driver, as Stan calls it.

Its head is silver-colored; it's somewhat dusty and appears to have a few scratches, but it's in good shape, overall.

Mabel swings the club, nearly missing Gruncle Stan and knocking the fez hat he wears off of his head.

"Whoa there, Whitworth, not inside the house."

"Sorry," Mabel says, not taking her eyes off the club. "I'm just so excited."

"And I'm excited that you're excited," Stan says.

"And I'm excited that you're excited that I'm excited," Mabel responds.

"We're gonna have to buy you new clothes and a display case for all the trophies you're gonna win."

At this point I decide to step in and be the voice of reason. "Uh, maybe we shouldn't get too far ahead of ourselves," I say, "After all, Mabel still has to try out for golf, right?"

They both look at me, then at each other, "Your brother's right," Stan says, "There'll be plenty of time to celebrate later. Right now, we gotta get into the fundamentals of golf."

"Sounds fun!" Mabel says, pun clearly intended.

"First, we're gonna need to practice some swings and all that jazz."

"Okey-dokey," Mabel says.

"Ooh, wait a second," Stan then says, "I think I may have a few golf balls stored away in the attic as well."

Stan hurries back up the ladder and then returns a few moments later carrying a plastic bucket that's got to be holding at least one-hundred golf balls.

"Uh, Gruncle Stan, where did you get all those golf balls?" I ask.

"I found them fair and square at the bottom of a pond over at the Gravity Falls Country Club," he answers with a wink.

I crinkle my face in confusion. "Did they let you in?"

"Nope." Stan simply says and then turns to Mabel. "Now let's go hit some balls, my future golf champion!"

"I love hitting balls!" Mabel shouts.

…

I take a seat on the front steps of the Mystery Shack. The late afternoon sun is in the middle of its descent, casting a pale, yellow glow over the town.

Stan and Mabel have selected their spot, facing towards an open road, its path clear of trees. Stan plants a tee in the ground and then places a golf ball on it. He then shows Mabel the proper way to hold a golf club, the correct stance and the proper way to swing; tells her not to take her eye off the golf ball and to complete the swing after the club makes contact with the ball. Mabel is somewhat familiar with what Stan tells her. She still retains some of her knowledge from all the time we spent playing mini golf.

"I think I got it," she says,

"Alrighty then, sweetie, show that ball who's boss!" Stan says and then takes a few steps back.

Mabel readies herself, a look of sheer determination on her face. She sways the club a bit in soft preparation; she even slightly wiggles her behind.

It's quiet; the air is still, the sounds of nature seemed to have paused as if in quiet observation of Mabel taking her swing.

She rears the club back and swings with all her might… missing the ball entirely and spinning in a complete circle, losing her balance in the process. Gruncle Stan manages to catch her from falling over; his reflexes are still quite fast for his age.

I feel myself wince at the sight.

"Whoa, Nelly" he says, "I guess I should've mentioned that balance is important too." Mabel blinks in response and Stan gently leads her back to the tee. "No worries, kiddo; It happens. Just remember what I told you and try again."

Mabel nods and repeats the whole process again. This time the club make some contact with the ball, but the ball only travels a few yards.

"Hey, not bad; not bad," Stan compliments. He picks up another golf ball and places it on the tee. "Now let's send this one even farther."

Mabel nods again with her eyebrows lowered and her lips pressed firmly together displaying the same look of determination.

Stan steps back and Mabel repeats the process, the ball does travel farther this time, but it's not good enough for Mabel.

"Shoot!" She hits the ground with her club.

"Hey, Hey, easy now," Stan says, "You're doing great, Mabel."

"But my shots aren't going anywhere," she says, dejectedly.

"Not true," he says, "Your last two shots have gone somewhere."

"I want them to go farther." She pouts and stomps her foot on the ground.

"Just be patient, golf is a game of patience and precision."

Those words make me wonder if golf is really Mabel's style. She's the least patient person I know. Wouldn't a sport like basketball or tennis be better suited for her? Sports where she would be able to run around?

Stan sets another golf ball on the tee and Mabel swings again with all her might, missing the ball yet again. She gets mad and takes another swing, she falls over again, this time Stan is too late to catch her, and she lands on her butt.

I suck in air through my teeth upon witnessing this.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" Stan asks, helping her up. Mabel doesn't say anything. "Do you want to take a break?"

"No," she says, "I have to do this." There is a pleading tone in her voice.

"Okay," Stan says softly and gently pats her shoulder. "Just remember what I told you."

He steps back and Mabel prepares to take another swing at the golf ball.

I notice some trepidation in her posture. She's shaking like a kid about to give a speech to an audience of over one million people. I can't stand to see her like this; I decide to say something.

"Come on, Mabel, you got this!" I stand up and shout.

Mabel looks back at me with a look of surprise. Our eyes meet and I smile and shoot her two thumbs up.

She smiles at the gesture, then the look of fierce determination returns, taking over her face. She turns back to face the golf ball… and swings.

There's an almighty THWACK and the ball is sent flying; it soars through the air like a jet after takeoff, eventually disappearing behind some large pine trees.

Mabel gives out a shout of excitement, throwing her hands in the air and tossing the club high above her; Stan whistles in astonishment and I clap my hands.

"Incredible!" our great uncle then says. "You sure showed that golf ball who's boss!" He picks up another golf ball. "Now, let's give this one the same business."

Mabel picks the club back up and eagerly nods her head.

I yell more words of encouragement and with another swing of the club, Mabel sends the golf ball flying even farther than the last one.

"Ha! You're a natural, kid!" Stan says, placing yet another ball on the tee.

Mabel sends golf ball after golf ball flying as Stan and I cheer and shout (there are a few muffs here and there, but nothing too bad).

Eventually, Mabel tires herself out, exhaling and wiping sweat from her forehead.

Stan pats her on the back. "Ya did good kid; ya did good."

I walk up to her and complement her as well. She responds by trapping both my uncle and I in a hug, we're both caught off guard at first, but waste no time in embracing the act of affection.  
...  
Later that evening Gruncle Stan looks through the brochure as Mabel and I chow down on dinner. Our great uncle made pasta. I slowly scoop and twirl my fork to get at the strands of noodles while Mabel just slurps up whatever she can manage to pick up with her fork. Her feverish attempts to eat her meal as fast as she can lead her to wind up with sauce stains all over her cheeks and chin. I feel compelled to reach over with a napkin and wipe the small splatters from her face for some reason, but I restrain myself from doing so.

"Hmm, I'm not seeing anything in here about any golf teams." Stan says.

"Huh?" Mabel utters, chunks of food falling out of her mouth. "What do you mean?"

"This pamphlet is only advertising golf competitions in Gravity Falls." Stan tells her. "Were there any other golf brochures or anything like that?"

"I don't know, I just grabbed the first brochure I saw." Mabel admits.

Stan lets out another "Hmm," then says, "In that case, maybe go take another look at school tomorrow and if they don't have anything else to offer, then we'll just go ahead and enter one of the competitions listed in here."

"Okay," Mabel chirps, then continues munching down her dinner.

…

The rest of the day is uneventful. Mabel and Gruncle Stan spend most of their time just sitting in front of the tv in the den watching reruns of tv shows while I keep my eyes glued to a magazine about the paranormal and supernatural; the issue I'm reading deals with parallel universes, stating that there might be alternate realities that contain different versions of ourselves in completely different universes where we all live different lives completely unaware of the others existence. I wonder if any of my counterparts are doing anything amazing, like having adventures and solving mysteries or stuff like that. I guess I'll never know.

The Waxing Crescent Moon rises high in the night sky signaling that it's time to retire for the day, which elicits its own set of tasks: saying goodnight to Gruncle Stan, washing up, brushing our teeth, changing into our pajamas, setting our clothes out for tomorrow, setting the alarm clock and tucking ourselves in bed.

The night is calm and quiet, only the sounds of crickets chirping, and frogs croaking break the tranquil night air.

"Dipper…?" I hear Mabel say to me.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for supporting me today."

I shift in my bed to face my sister; she's looking at me, her pale face is barely visible in the moonlight.

"Of course," I say, feeling a twinge of guilt for originally trying to give her some reservations about golf earlier in the day.

I see her smile, there's a moment of silence between us and then she says, "Good night; love you."

"Good night," I say back, "… I love you, too."

Mabel's smile never leaves her face, she even tilts her head a little bit in an adoring fashion before turning in her bed to face the wall. My gaze remains on the back of my sister's head for several seconds, before I eventually snuggle under my covers, staring up at the ceiling. Mabel eventually begins to snore softly. For someone as energetic as her, she sure can fall asleep quickly.

I close my eyes; the sound of Mabel's snores fills my ears like waves from a noise machine. I find them soothing for some reason. I can feel the world around me slowly begin to melt away like a painting exposed to flames. Darkness surrounds me, I'm subconsciously aware that I'm asleep. Any and all noises from the outside world blend together.

A figure then appears in front of me from out of thin air. It's Mabel. I'm looking at her through a pair of eyes I can envision as being my own. She's smiling. It's a warm and comforting smile. She's looking at me with a pair of soft and expectant eyes. I'm aware that I'm moving closer towards her now, reaching up with both arms. She steps into my clutches. I'm holding her now; it doesn't feel like an ordinary hug between siblings, it feels like I'm wanting to be as close to her as possible, our heads are resting on each other's shoulders, her body and scent feel all too real.

I'm then aware of a wet and moist sensation spreading over the front of my body. I step back and see that Mabel is covered in nothing but a pink towel, body and hair still wet.

Heat spreads through my whole body now, causing my clothes to stick to my body, accentuating my chest muscles and groin. I scan her entire body up and down and then return my gaze back to her eyes; they haven't left my face, she's still smiling. My hands come back into view, they're slowly reaching towards the folds of her towel, my hands clamp the piece of the cloth, the final obstacle.

My throat tightens, it feels dry. There's a voice in the back of my head screaming at me incoherently. Static seems to fill the air around me. The warm dampness of the water from Mabel's body mixes with the coldness of my sweat. My stomach feels like it's doing cartwheels. My hands are shaking uncontrollably. I try my best to will the sensations away. All I want to do is remove the towel and bask in the glory of Mabel's nude body. That's all I want in the whole world. I remove the towel; things become too bright; my vision goes blurry. I swallow and begin to choke on my own saliva.

I shoot up in my bed, choking as quietly possible, clearing my throat as much as I can. I reach for a glass of water on my nightstand and drink it all in three big gulps. I exhale furiously and wipe my mouth with the sleeve of my pajamas.

I rub my face, then instantly remember Mabel. I jerk my head in her direction to see that she hasn't even stirred one little bit in her bed: she's a heavy sleeper after all. I then look at the clock, it reads 1:17 AM.

I regain control of my breathing, and my heart rate begins to slow. I didn't even realize how fast it was beating at first, my mind was too preoccupied with the vision of Mabel from my dream.

Why did I just dream that? I wonder to myself as I lie my head back down on my pillow, my mind races with possible explanations, I eventually chalk it up to the trauma of almost seeing my own twin sister naked earlier the previous day.

I tell myself that it was only a dream and that there's no way I'm the only person who has ever had a suggestive dream like that about one of their siblings. But in the back of my mind I am aware that every dream has a meaning, no matter how insignificant.

It takes me a while to fall back asleep, but I eventually do. Thankfully, I don't dream again.


	3. Second Day of School

A Year to Remember

Chapter 3: Second Day of School

September 2, 2014

It's another rude awakening by some run-of-the-mill pop song that blares through the alarm clock radio's speakers. I make no effort to cover my ears, I just let the noise assault my eardrums. I'm too tired to even pry my eyes open. Eventually the noise stops and is replaced with the voice of my sister Mabel wishing me a good morning in that all too upbeat voice of hers.

I don't respond.

"Dipper?" she says.

I rise slowly like a vampire lifting from his casket. Ripping my eyes open into the bleeding sunlight, yawning and smacking my gums together.

"Whoa," Mabel says, "You okay, Dip? You look like a zombie."

I move my head slowly to face my sister, afraid to look her in the eyes for fear that she'll be able to somehow view the dream I had last night through my own eyes. She has a worried look on her face.

"Just one of those nights." I smile weakly and say, my voice hoarse and groggy.

Mabel continues to stare at me with a look of scrutiny until she eventually says, "Why don't you go take a shower first, you clearly need it more than I do."

I nod and slowly place my head down on my blanket, hoping that the world will disappear.

"Dipper?" I hear Mabel's voice again and I shoot my head back up.

"Okay," I manage to utter before getting out of my bed with half-parted eyelids and grabbing my towel and clothes. Mabel doesn't take her eyes off me until I'm completely out of view.

In the bathroom, I study myself in the mirror, my eyeballs are bloodshot and there are bags under my eyelids, classic telltale signs of a bad night's sleep.

I splash some water on my face as the shower runs, it provides some temporary relief from the tiredness, but it creeps back up, just like the images of Mabel from my dream. In the shower I try to just focus on washing my hair and body, but the image is buzzing around my head like and angry insect.

My body begins to respond naturally to the image, and I have to press down on my groin to get my private parts to behave. I try to finish washing myself as fast as I can, but the allure of the warm water slows my haste.

It isn't until I remember how much it sucked having to take a cold shower the morning before that I break free from the water's grasp. Mabel might not have cared that I was stuck with no warm water yesterday, but my being the more considerate of the two of us leads me to reach for the shower knob. But before I can wrap a hand around it, images of Mabel shivering storm my mind, I imagine the cold beads of water causing goosebumps to swell over her entire body, I imagine her nipples becoming hard and erect as my name leaves her lips, cursing me for playing a major role in this unpleasant experience. I start to become hard again and I grunt in frustration, my voice echoing off the walls. I close my lips tightly, hoping no one heard me from outside the bathroom.

I wait a few more seconds until I become soft again and shut off the running water.

I dry myself off and suit up, wearing a red t-shirt and cargo shorts. I then open the bathroom door to see a figure standing in front of me in the doorway, just like the dream last night. It's Mabel.

I let out a yelp causing Mabel to let one out herself.

"Geez, Mabel, you scared me." I say, the words come out harsher than I intend them to.

"Sheesh, sorry for standing in this exact spot," she says sardonically.

I bring a hand to my face, my thumb and index finger brushes against the tips of my still damp hair. "Sorry," I say, making my way past her, "I guess I'm just a bit jumpy." I don't look her in the eyes as I continue on.

"You sure you're okay?" She calls after me.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I answer, still not facing her.

I rush downstairs into the kitchen, Gruncle Stan is nowhere to be seen. He's still probably asleep. His being up early yesterday to make us breakfast was probably just a one-time thing for a special occasion. I decide to pour myself a bowl of Overly Sensitive Owl's. As I'm chewing, I make note of how quiet the inside of the house is; the only sound being that of running water from the shower upstairs. I start to chew the cereal slower, fully aware that Mabel is currently naked and alone upstairs. I think back to the days where Mabel and I would share a bath together. We would cause a big mess having splash fights and trying to see who could hold their breath underwater the longest. I'm sure Gruncle Stan might have some photos of a young Mabel and I stored away somewhere, we brought tons of photos with us when we moved in with him, I kind of want to see if I can find a picture of Mabel and I in the bathtub, not in a weird way of course, that would be disgusting, I only want to see it to get a better grasp on old times when our parents were still alive.

The water shuts off and I quickly resume eating my breakfast, unsure of why I'm suddenly afraid that Mabel would somehow know that I'm staring at the first few visible steps of the staircase that leads to the second floor should the bathroom door suddenly swing open.

She appears a few minutes later dressed in one of her many poufy sweaters: a pink one with a sun on it; and an aqua blue skirt.

I try my best not to make eye contact with her as she pours herself a bowl of the same cereal I'm eating. The silence is awkward as the two of us chow down our breakfast at a slow but steady rate.

Once we finish eating, we put our bowls and silverware in the sink and grab our backpacks and shoes.

Gruncle Stan enters the scene right as I'm putting my hat on my head to tell us to have a good second day at school.

"We will!" Mabel says, excitedly, just like she did the day before.

"Don't forget to check and see about your school having a golf team or something," Stan also adds.

"It's going to be the first thing we do when we get there," Mabel says.

The two of us wave goodbye to our great uncle until he is almost entirely out of view.

It's just my sister and I again, only the sounds of birds chirping, woodpeckers drilling, and cars passing us by fill the silence between us.

"Are you feeling any better with a belly full of Owls?" Mabel finally turns to ask me.

"A little," I say, not meeting her gaze. I can feel her eyes on me for a few moments more before she finally turns to face the path ahead of us. This isn't the first time Mabel and I have dealt with some awkward silence between us, but this silence feels especially brutal after I kind of snapped at her earlier.

Mabel, not being a fan of silence, speaks up again. "What do you think owls taste like?"

I shrug, "Definitely not like the cereal."

Mabel smiles and exhales out of her nose. "I wouldn't mind having a pet owl."

I shrug again, "I would, I don't think they're as wise as books and TV shows and Tootsie Pop commercials make them out to be."

"You're probably right," she says.

"Any other animal you'd want as a pet?" I ask

Mabel thinks about my question for a moment before answering. "I guess I'd like to have a pet pig."

I scrunch my brow in confusion, "A pig?"

"Yeah. Pigs are cute when they're not fat or rolling around in mud. If I had a pet pig, I'd probably name him Waddles because when they walk, it's like they are waddling."

"I think Chris P. Bacon would be another good name," I state.

"Oh no," Mabel says, "If I ever get one, I'll probably have to stop eating bacon and pork, I might be eating one of his parents or siblings." She then asks, "Do you think Gruncle Stan would be willing to get me a pet pig? Like, for Christmas?"

I shrug for a third time. "I'm not sure where he'd be able to buy one around the holidays. Plus, owning a pet is a huge responsibility."

Mabel blows a raspberry, "Pffft, I've heard that one before." And she's right, Mabel and I would always pester our parents about getting us a pet dog or even a cat when we were younger, but our parents would always give us the same answer, that we weren't responsible enough for a pet. That and our dad was highly allergic to anything with fur.

We continue our small talk about pets and exotic animals we'd like to own if we could and I can feel the tension from this morning fading away.

Then, I get a strange feeling in the back of my head, like I'm being watched, I turn my head towards the road and see a black pickup truck come into view. It's the same one that passed us yesterday, and just like yesterday it seems to slow down as it passes us. I still can't see who's driving it because of the tinted windows, but I can sense that whoever it is, is looking right at us.

The truck speeds up a little after it passes and it isn't until it's out of view that I hear Mabel say my name. I snap my head to her and say, "Yeah?"

"Would you?" she asks, most likely repeating herself.

"Uh… Yeah, I guess so," I say.

She raises an eyebrow. "You would?"

"Wait..." I say. "What was the question again?"

Before Mabel can say anything, a voice calls out to us and we both look to see Candy and Grenda waiting for us at the same juncture from yesterday.

"Heeey!" Mabel greets and runs ahead to engage with them.

"Wait!" I call after her, "What did I say 'yes' to?"

...

We bid Mabel's friends farewell after we enter the school and head towards where all the school clubs and activity pamphlets are displayed. We see nothing about any golf teams, just golf competitions that the town hosts every year. After failing to find anything advertising golf teams, we head into the main office to inquire one of the ladies at the front desk about any golf programs that the high school has. She tells us that the school has none, but she does inform us about the yearly golf competitions that the town hosts and hands us a sheet of paper to fill out in order to enter it.

Mabel takes the piece of paper from the woman and her and I leave the office, dejectedly.

"I can't believe this stupid school doesn't have a golf team," Mabel says, looking disappointedly down at the floor.

"I know," I say, "It really seems like a massive oversight by whoever oversees all this."

Mabel does not respond.

"But maybe you can still enter one of the competitions," I quickly add.

"I guess," Mabel says.

I frown at first, then quickly turn it upside down and say, "Well, whatever you decide on doing, I'm sure you'll do great." I put a hand on Mabel's shoulder and she turns her head to face me. My heart rate increases, but I do my best to hold her gaze.

She smiles. "You're right, Dip, I need to stay positive. So what if I'm not on a team? Golf is golf no matter what."

"There ya go," I say and pat her shoulder. And with that settled, the two of us make our way towards our lockers to start the day.

(Thankfully, a particular blonde girl is nowhere to be seen once we do get to our lockers.)

…

The second day of school is only a slight step up from the first. All of the classes are spent learning the fundamentals of each subject. They're all easy for the most part, but I know that they will eventually evolve into more complex subjects and topics.

Eventually, it's time for lunch and Mabel and I buy our food and sit at the same table we sat at yesterday where Candy and Grenda are sitting at as well. The two girls are deep into a conversation, Grenda has a cocky smile on her face and Candy looks to be in shock, like Grenda just told her something that blew her mind.

"What are you two talking about?" Mabel asks.

The two turn toward my sister, they were too engrossed in their conversation to notice our arrival.

"Mabel! Guess what!" Grenda says and slams her fists on the table causing our trays to shake.

"What?" Mabel says.

"You gotta guess."

"Duck-tective got renewed for another season?" Mabel guesses.

"Nope." Grenda says.

"Your pet iguana had babies?"

"Nope."

"Your favorite fanfiction author finally updated one of his fics?"

"Even better?"

"Even better? Gosh, Grenda, what could be better than that?"

"Marius totally asked me to homecoming earlier." Grenda finally admits.

Now the shocked expression that had been on Candy's face appears on Mabel's. "No freaking way!" she says and smacks her palms on the table, causing everything to rattle again.

Homecoming? I think to myself and look around the cafeteria, spotting several posters advertising the school dance. Oh yeah… How did I miss all of those? I think little of it, munching on my food as my eyes continue to scan the cafeteria while the excited voices of Mabel and her friends fade into the void of our fellow classmates' conversations, eventually freezing on a sight similar to yesterday.

The jocks. I don't know what it is about them, but they give me an unsettling vibe. It wouldn't be the first time jocks gave me an unnerving feeling, back at my old school the jocks ruled the halls, they'd torment and bully kids at random, but one advantage to attending a school with a large student body was that the odds of you being the object of their harassment were very slim. But now that this school is smaller, it's easier for people like them to single you out. I watch them jostle each other, play with their food, laugh at everything the person who I assume is the leader of the group says.

Mabel must spot me staring because she asks me what I'm looking at.

"Nothing." I quickly look to her and say, but I'm too late, Mabel turns to the group and smiles at them and waves.

I snap my head back to them to see that they're all staring back at us and waving. Shortly after that happens one of them stands up and begins to make his way towards us as his friends laugh and egg him on. It's the tall and wiry one, the leader. The one I am most trepid about.

He walks casually, but with conviction over to us, closing the distance in a few big steps.

I start to get really nervous. I no longer hear Mabel's friends talking, the sight of the tall, handsome teen approaching has stopped their conversation dead in its track.

The teen is standing in front of our table now, his slightly grown out hair is black like tar and his bangs slightly cover his eyes. His skin is somewhat of a natural tan color. His gaze is mostly fixed on Mabel.

"Hi, there." He finally says, his voice is kind of croaky, but smooth. He's smiling a soft smile showing off pearly white teeth.

"Hello." Mabel greets, with a bright smile.

I turn back to Grenda and Candy and see that their mouths are drooping like they've dislocated their jaws.

I then turn back to the teen who says to Mabel, "I'm Blake, what's your name?"

Mabel opens her mouth to speak but is cut off by a gruff voice.

"HI, BLAKE!" We all turn to Grenda who is shaking uncontrollably with her fists clenched.

Candy covers her friend's mouth with her hand. "Continue." She smiles awkwardly and says.

I turn back to the scene playing out in front of me.

"I'm Mabel," my sister says and then turns to her friends to introduce them and then introduces me, "And this is my twin brother, Dipper."

I groan internally, why did she have to introduce me as 'Dipper'?

A look of slight amusement spreads on Blake's face. "Dipper? What kind of name is that?" He says it in a way that could sound joking to people like Mabel and her friends, but not to me.

Before I can say anything, Mabel speaks up on my behalf, "We call him Dipper because he has a birthmark of the Big Dipper on his forehead. See?" Mabel parts the hair on my forehead to show Blake my birthmark.

"Mabel, please." I say and remove her hand from my forehead.

"What? If you got it, flaunt it." She says.

"Oh, shit." Blake chuckles, then asks, "Why do you have a Big Dipper birthmark?"

How the hell should I know? Is what I want to say, but instead I just shrug my shoulders and say, "Don't know." And that's as far as I'm willing to dive into the subject of my birthmark.

"Is it okay if I sit with you?" Blake then asks Mabel.

"Of course," she says and then turns to the rest of us. "You all cool with that?"

Grenda and Candy nod their heads furiously. I bite my tongue.

"There's plenty of room by them," Mabel says and points a finger to the only empty seat at the table next to her friends.

"Actually, I was kinda hoping I could sit next to you." He says to Mabel.

"Oh." Mabel says and then turns to face me "Is that okay with you, Dip?"

FUCK NO IT'S NOT OKAY WITH ME! I want to shout, but instead, I fake the fakest smile that would make every Barbie doll in the world jealous and say, "Sure."

I pick up my tray and make my way towards the opposite end of the table where Grenda and Candy are sitting, both girls have their eyes focused on Blake, but I could almost swear that Candy's eyes flash towards mine for a fraction of a second.

Sitting down, I can do nothing but watch helplessly as Blake and Mabel engage in conversation, not paying me, Grenda or Candy any mind.

"So, are you a freshman?" he asks.

"Yep," Mabel says, "What about you?"

"I'm a senior," Blake says.

"Ooooh." Mabel gawks with figurative stars in her eyes.

"If that's the case, then why are you bothering with us?" I cut in.

Mabel shoots me an irritated glance. Blake looks at me as well, but his face is unreadable.

"I guess I just like hanging out with younger people," he finally says, "It can be a drag hanging out with people your own age. They can constantly bring you down with their own worries and responsibilities. Unlike youngsters who are more positive and energetic."

"Why us, then?" I ask.

Mabel shoots me yet another irritated look and Blake says, "I guess I was just drawn to Mabel's fashion sense. I saw her on my way here yesterday and today and was hoping for a chance to interact with her, so when she smiled and waved at me and my boys, I figured, might as well.

"I don't remember seeing you on our way to school yesterday or today," I tell him.

"Probably because I drove," he says.

"Ooh! You drive?" Mabel says, "That's so cool!"

"Yep," Blake nods, "I drive a black Chevy pickup truck."

My heart skips a beat and my blood turns to ice. "That was you?" I say, my voice a cold whisper, but Blake doesn't hear me, he just carries on the conversation with Mabel.

My heart rate then feels like it's increasing rapidly, and my vision goes slightly blurry. I bring a hand to my face and try to make it look like I'm casually rubbing my eyes with my thumb and forefinger. I then turn to face a clock on the wall, willing the hands of time to go faster, for this lunch period to end. I want Blake to just go away and never talk to Mabel again, but I know that that will never happen, not with how boy crazy Mabel is. Sure, she has kind of simmered down over the years with her boy chasing, but when it comes to a handsome fellow like Blake who is a jock and can drive a car, she's putty in his hands.

"You're on the football team?" I then hear Mabel say.

Great, looks like I was right about that.

"Yeah." He says, "But I only play cornerback and wide receiver, it's no big deal."

"I don't know what any of those positions mean, but they sound important," Mabel says.

Blake chuckles then says, "Look, there's actually another reason I wanted to talk to you."

"Oh yeah?" Mabel says.

"Well, I'm sure you've noticed all the posters for homecoming, right?" he says, gesturing to the papers plastered all over the cafeteria walls.

"Yeah." Mabel says.

My body tenses up. I hear Candy gasp, and Grenda gasp from behind Candy's hand.

"Well, I hope I'm not being too forward, but would you be interested in going with me?"

I feel lightheaded, like I'm about to pass out. Part of me wishes I would pass out to delay Mabel from answering Blake's question.

"Me…?" Mabel says and points at herself.

"Yes, you." Blake says.

Mabel thinks about it for a few seconds. I'm hopeful for just a millionth of a second that Mabel will turn him down because she never takes this long to decide anything. But that hope comes crashing down when she gives her answer: "Sure."

Blake's smile gets bigger. Candy and Grenda hold each other and squeal. I feel like I'm about to fall apart, like one small movement will cause my entire body to disintegrate.

"Cool." Blake says, "You have a phone number or something I can use to reach you. I'd love to text you later and chat some more."

"Sure thing," Mabel says and then turns to me, "You wanna hand me our phone really quick, Dipper"

"You two share a phone?" Blake asks.

Mabel turns back to Blake and says, "Yeah, sorry. Hope that won't be a problem."

Blake looks disappointed for some reason, then says. "Not at all."

Mabel then turns back to me and when she sees that I haven't produced our phone, she says my name again. I watch as my arm defies my mind and reaches into my pocket and takes out our flip phone.

"That's your phone?" Blake then asks, incredulously. "I haven't seen one of those since I was in elementary school."

Mabel's face goes red with embarrassment.

I do nothing but hand her the phone, hoping that she doesn't notice how much I'm shaking.

Mabel takes it from me and reads off the numbers. I can see her mouth moving, but I can't hear anything. There is a loud ringing in my ears and several students begin to stand up, Mabel and Blake included.

Everyone then begins to surround Mabel and Blake who are both holding hands ceremoniously

One student is dressed as a clergyman and he's holding a book. He's reciting words that I feel like I've heard before.

I look to my left, Candy and Grenda are wearing fancy dresses with big smiles plastered on their faces. I turn back to Mabel and Blake to see my twin sister wearing a wedding gown and Blake wearing a tuxedo.

I realize now that I'm at a wedding.

"…And do you, Blake, take Mabel to be your lawfully wedded wife?" The kids holding the book says.

"I do."

The kid then turns to Mabel and asks if she takes Blake to be her lawfully wedded husband.

"I do." She says.

"Should anyone see any reason why these two should not be wed, speak now or forever… suffer in silence."

Wait... That's not how it's supposed to go. I want to stand up and shout, but I can't move, I can't even speak. My mouth makes a muffled sound and I realize that I have no mouth to speak with.

"By the power vested in me, I know pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss the bride."

I watch helplessly as Blake takes Mabel in his arms, leans her back and kisses her with everything he has. I can see his tongue assaulting the insides of Mabel's mouth as her cheeks expand whenever he presses his tongue against one of them.

My muffled cries don't escape me as tears flow endlessly from my eyes, flooding the entire cafeteria. No one does anything as they're all overtaken by water and swept away. My vision goes dark as the flood waters drown out the light and I'm surrounded by silence.

"Dipper." I hear a voice call out to me and a light patting on my shoulder rescues me from the depths of despair.

I shoot my head up and blink a couple of times. "Huh?" I say and look around to see an empty cafeteria and a worried looking Mabel. Neither Blake nor Candy or Grenda are anywhere to be seen. Was it all a dream? Was Mabel being asked out all a bad hallucination? I spot the cell phone in Mabel's hand and realize that what had just happened was all too real.

"You okay?" she says, "You fell asleep right when the bell rang."

"What?" I say and quickly begin to stand. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Chillax," she says, "It's only been, like, a minute."

My body eases a little.

"Are you okay?" she says, "You've been really out of it today."

"I'm fine." I say, fully standing up now. My legs feel slightly wobbly, but I power through it.

"You sure?" she continues, "Because I can walk you to the nurse if you're not feeling—"

"I said I'm fine," I say, with just a speck of force, putting on my backpack and straightening my clothes. The worried look on Mabel's face turns into a frown. I want to punch myself in the face with how badly I feel like such a piece of shit. If I ever heard anyone use that tone on Mabel, I'd beat them to a pulp. Why should I be any different? "I'm sorry, Mabel, I'm just tired." I now want to punch myself for making such a pitiful excuse.

"I'm just worried about you." She says.

"Don't worry about me, I'm fine." I say and offer a meek smile.

Mabel doesn't look too convinced, she slightly tilts her head to one side and her eyes scan me up and down, but she doesn't press me any further. "Well… Okay. See ya later then."

"See ya." I say, and the two of us depart.

...

The rest of the school day is a blur. Words of teachers and pupils enter through one ear and exit the other. The scene of Blake asking Mabel to the homecoming replays in my head like a scene in a movie. Me just sitting there and not saying anything, watching Mabel agree to do something so… personal to a person she literally just met.

It's just a stupid dance. I tell myself, contradicting my own thoughts. It's not like he was asking her to go steady with him or marry him. They'll just go to homecoming, maybe dance for a bit and that'll be it. A dreadful notion then intrudes my train of thought. What if it leads to something bigger? What if Mabel realizes that she's head over heels in love with the guy? What if they spend every moment together? What if she decides to live with him and then he leaves Gravity Falls and she goes with him and they get married and have tons of kids and she forgets that she even has a twin?

All these thoughts and what ifs send my mind and heart racing. My throat tightens up and I struggle to breathe, I close my eyes and try to mentally force the thoughts out of my head, but every time I do I'm greeted with the sight from my anxiety-induced dream of Blake shoving his tongue down Mabel's mouth and her just leaning back and joyfully taking it.

A snap brings me back to reality and I look down at my hand and see that a pencil I'd been holding had snapped in two from the force of my grip.

Everyone in the classroom pauses and looks at me, even the teacher stops writing on the whiteboard to shoot me a glare.

All I can do is blush with embarrassment and offer a pathetic smile. The teacher mercifully doesn't say anything and goes back to the board and everyone else back to their notes.

I exhale quietly, the shock of what just happened and the relief of not being scolded or laughed at causes my body to relax and I slouch down in my chair, surviving one second to the next.

…

The school day can't end soon enough. The dismissal bell rings and grants me a brief moment of bliss before I head to my lockers to find Mabel already at her own locker.

"Hey," she says softly, "How are you feeling?"

"Better," I say, not entirely sure if that's the truth or not.

It must be enough to convince Mabel, though, because she doesn't follow it up.

The walk home is quiet and awkward, but I've stopped giving a damn today. Mabel occasionally shoots me side glances, but I pretend not to notice.

It isn't until we're home that Mabel speaks again. From the den we hear the TV buzzing and Mabel sets down her backpack and takes out a piece of paper that I presume is the one she needs to fill out to enter the golf competition and hurries towards the noise. I follow her since it's either that or do homework.

"Gruncle Stan! Gruncle Stan! Gruncle Stan!" she says, excitedly.

"What! What! What!" I hear him say before I enter the den shortly after Mabel. He's wearing his wife beaters and boxers, while perched on his recliner, watching some kind of talk show where the guests seem more interested in fighting than talking while the audience cheers on. He mutes the TV, but the lack of noise doesn't make the actions being committed on the show look any less dumb.

"Guess what? Guess what? Guess what?" Mabel says, bouncing up and down.

"You were able to sign up for the golf team?" he guesses.

Mabel's bouncing falters slightly. "No," she says, "Our school doesn't have a team, the only way to play golf competitively is to enter a competition." She hands Gruncle Stan the piece of paper and he begins to skim over it. "But guess what else happened!"

He looks back up at her. "What?"

"A boy asked me to homecoming!" she squeals.

My legs begin to feel wobbly again and I go take a seat on the couch in the middle of the room.

"Hey! That's great!" Stan says, joyfully. "Who's the lucky guy?"

"His name is Blake, he's a senior and he plays white receiver and cornerback at football… or something like that I forget what he called the positions he plays."

"A senior?" Stan says, a hint of perplexity in his voice.

Mabel fails to pick up on it. "Uh-huh! He can also drive. Oooh! Maybe he can drive us to school sometimes, Dipper" She turns to me and smiles.

I don't react visibly to that thought, but a twinge of dread causes my heart to skip a beat.

"I don't know, Mabel," Stan says, "I'd like to meet this kid before you start going for rides in his car."

Mabel turns back to our great uncle and frowns. "Oh." She says and looks down at the ground.

I'm relieved to hear Stan shoot that idea down for the time being.

Gruncle Stan then looks back at the sheet of paper and says, "So, why don't we fill this bad boy out, huh?"

"Okay." Mabel quickly lifts her head up and chirps.

And with that, the two of them make their way into the kitchen.

On TV, two people are still viciously going at it, shoving, punching and hitting each other with chairs while the audience pump their fists and cheers.

I heave a heavy sigh and close my eyes, not willing to endure anymore unpleasantness in the world. It's quiet. I can hear my twin sister and great uncle in the kitchen, my ears pick up every word that they say.

"All right, pumpkin," Stan says once they finish filling out the sheet, "now ya just gotta hand this in tomorrow and hopefully you'll be selected as one of the participants."

"What's that now?" Mabel says.

"Did you not read the text at the bottom? It says that turning this in doesn't guarantee a spot in the competition. I think they choose whoever it is they think is best in order to make it more entertaining."

"What? That's not fair. I've never been in any kind of competition before. How am I supposed to be selected over people who have probably been in multiple of them before I even lived here?"

"Hey, don't fret kid, they'd be crazy not to take you." Stan assures her. Mabel doesn't say anything. "Tell ya what," he continues, "why don't the three of us go out mini golfing this weekend? You, me and your brother. That ought to put your mind at ease, huh, sweetie pie?"

I picture Mabel smiling at Stan's suggestion then sure enough I hear her say "Heck yeah!"

"Great," Stan says. "It's settled then. Now, got any homework that needs doing, kiddo?"

"Just some math homework, yeah," Mabel says.

"Cool. Have your brother help you with that, because I don't think I'm cut out to help you with any potential new age math stuff."

I let out another breath and mentally swear.


	4. Minature Golf

A Year to Remember

Chapter 4: Miniature Golf

September 3 – 5, 2014

I power through the rest of the week on autopilot. Living in spectator mode; I wake up, go to school, come home, do chores and homework, then go to bed. I speak only when spoken to. I constantly have to reassure Mabel that I'm fine. Even Gruncle Stan notices that I'm not acting myself, which leads to him asking me a plethora of questions about my well-being. Every question feels like a field of landmines that I have to carefully navigate, I try not to say too much or too little, one wrong step and all my thoughts and feelings could be blown wide open.

Mabel, when she's not busy worrying about me, spends most of her time texting and talking on the phone with Blake (who she has given the nickname Blakonator), she even tries to get me to talk to him, but I find any excuse I can not to.

At school, Blake thankfully still sits at his own table with the rest of his cronies, and Mabel still sits with me and her own friends, but that doesn't stop her from constantly looking over to him and waving and making funny faces.

...  
September 6, 2014

The weekend finally arrives. The weather on Saturday is warm and sunny, which contradicts how I'm feeling on the inside, but is perfect weather to go mini golfing.

Stan drives us to the local mini golf range; we leave the house early so as to get there before the place opens. Windmills and castles and all sorts of course obstacles and decorations come into view before the actual sign for the mini golf course does.

Ye Royal Discount Putt Hutt is the name of the course, it focuses primarily on the theme of early modernity, if the name is anything to go by.

Stan pulls into the parking lot and we're all surprised to find that it's quite packed. "Hey, what gives?" he says, "This place is never this busy this early." He then takes a look at the clock on his dashboard, it reads 11:55 AM. The place doesn't open for another five minutes.

Stan parks near the back of the lot and grumbles all the way to the entrance, surprisingly there's no line for admission, we quickly find out why. A sign posted at the booth where they rent out the putters informs us that the range is hosting its annual Junior putt-putt competition.

"Drat!" Stan says and bangs his fists on the counter "Of all the…" he closes his eyes and takes a breath, then turns to face my sister and I. "I'm sorry kids, looks like we'll just have to try again tomorrow.

"Isn't this place closed on Sundays?" I say.

"Oh, dang it, that's right," Stan says and smacks himself on the forehead. "Darn religious owners."

"Aw, man," Mabel says and looks down at the ground. She dejectedly kicks a rock.

"Better luck next week, I suppose," Stan says.

While all that is happening, I walk up to the sign and notice a few other pieces of paper next to it. One of them appears to be a signup sheet, unfortunately all the spots are filled up.

"Excuse me," a voice says, and I turn to see a Putt Hutt employee standing behind me, holding a black marker. He's doesn't look to be much older than me. Wearing a crown on his head and a mantle, he looks like a member of the royal family, but I'm guessing he doesn't feel like royalty, seeing as though this place probably makes him wear that silly looking getup.

I step back and the employee crosses a name off the list of participants. "Looks like a spot just cleared up if you were hoping to nab one, buddy." He says to me and then walks away.

I skim over the signup sheet and notice something that makes me gasp. "Wait, guys, look." I say to my Sister and Great Uncle.

"What is it?" Stan says as he and Mabel stop in their tracks and turn to face me.

"A spot just opened up," I tell them.

"That's real nice, but what use does it do all of us?" Stan says.

"Look!" I say and the two of them step up to take a closer look at the sheet, their eyes get big when they see what I saw.

The paper reads that whoever wins this competition will be guaranteed an automatic spot on the Gravity Falls Annual Junior Golf Competition.

"Wow, what a stroke of luck!" Mabel excitedly says, before writing down her name on the sheet with a pen that's tied to the clipboard that's displaying the sheet of paper.

Stan pays the entrance fee, and we make our way inside.

The place is like a circus, there are kids of all ages, some look nervous, some look determined, many are being talked to by adults who are most likely giving them last minute tips and advice.

Mabel makes her way through the crowd quicker than Stan and I do; our great uncle shouts at her to slow down. She turns back to us and says "What?" No longer paying attention to where she is going, she bumps into a fellow golfer.

My sister is knocked back on her butt as the person she bumped into staggers forward. I quickly catch up to Mabel just in time for the fellow golfer to turn around an issue a stern "Watch it!"

To our surprise, the person Mabel bumped into is none other than Pacifica Northwest.

Oh no. Of all the people Mabel had to run into. I think to myself.

"Sorry," Mabel says, as I help her to her feet.

"You'd better be," the blonde girl says as she brushes the wrinkles from her purple golf polo shirt with her hand.

"It was only an accident," I chime in, defensively.

"You're an accident." Pacifica says, without missing a beat.

I inwardly wince at that statement. "Hey, you don't know me."

"And thank goodness for that."

I narrow my eyes at the twisted grin displayed on the blonde's cocky face. Then, as I open my mouth to utter a retort of my own, a hand is placed firmly on my shoulder.

"Let's move it along kids, if I wanted you to fight people, I would've taken you to that biker bar, Skull Fracture." Gruncle Stan says as he ushers Mabel and I along. My eyes never leave Pacifica's until we're well past each other.

"I can't believe she's in this competition, too." Mabel says with a hint of disdain in her voice.

I turn to her and say, "She has no idea who she's up against."

Mabel turns to face me and a wicked grin forms on her face.

…

Mabel soon collects her putter and score card, and the game begins. Since the match goes by order of who signed the signup sheet. Mabel has to wait until the first nineteen people who signed up have putted. It's a rather boring wait, but I can't help but think that Mabel has an advantage watching the other golfers go first, since she'll be able to devise a perfect strategy in how to navigate the courses, we watch as some kids manage the hole perfectly (Pacifica included), while others make mistakes. By the time it's Mabel's turn, I assume she's already gauged the perfect way to handle the hole.

The first hole is based off the old west; steer skulls, horseshoes and cacti surround the course, and a covered wagon is placed meticulously on the green, meaning that the putter will have to hit the ball methodically enough so that it makes its way under the wagon without hitting either of its wheels.

Mabel sets her golf ball down, takes one last look at the course and hits the ball. It bounces off a few curves and comes to rest in front of the wagon. It's now a straight shot to the hole, if Mabel had hit the ball harder it might've been a hole-in-one, but she doesn't let that bother her. She putts the ball, and it travels directly into the hole.

Stan and I voice our support as Mabel writes down her score.

We hear other people cheer and Mabel excitedly lifts her head only to realize that Stan and I are the only two spectators standing around the first hole, she then turns to face where everyone else is and sees that they're all surrounding a different golfer.

I can sense that Mabel is wondering who they are cheering for and as if to answer her, a random voice shouts, "Yay! Go Pacifica." She frowns upon hearing that, and I make my way over to her and place a hand on her shoulder.

She turns to me, I smile and say, "Onto the next hole."

The frown leaves her face, and she smiles and nods her head.

The next hole has a theme revolving around France. It consists of a straight course with an elongated slope leading up to a model of the Eiffel tower where the hole rests under. The hole proves to be no problem for Mabel as she hits the ball with enough power to clear the slope and putt a hole in one.

Stan and I are about to cheer when the crowd erupts again for Pacifica.

"Really?" Mabel turns to the noise and says, mostly to herself.

"Ignore them, Mabel," Stan says. "They don't know what they're missing."

We hurry to the next course, which appears to be based off Asia if the pagodas are anything to go by. The course is similar to the previous one, only there is a tunnel located at the bottom of the model at the top of the slope leading to an even steeper slope that the ball will have to travel down to reach the hole.

Mabel putts the ball with enough power for it to clear the slope and enter the pagoda. It appears one second later and rolls down the adjacent slope, it misses the hole at the bottom of the slope but takes a lucky bounce off a wall and rolls into the hole.

Luckily, we don't hear the crowd cheer for Pacifica this time and Stan and I take advantage of the silence to cheer for Mabel as loud as we can, earning us some annoyed glances from a few members of the crowd surrounding Pacifica.

We pay those hypocrites no mind, though.

The next hole looks somewhat challenging. It features a rotating watermill that acts as a bridge between a gap in the green. Mabel will have to time her putt just right to have the water wheel deliver her ball from one end of the gap to the next.

Mabel sets her ball down and waits for the most opportune moment to strike. When she does, she makes it count, because the ball reaches the wheel at just the right moment, we all watch in amazement as the ball is carried from one end of the gap to the next and rolls straight into the hole.

"Nice!" Stan says, "Three hole-in-ones in a row! You're doing great, Mabel."

I echo Stan's sentiment and Mabel is practically beaming at this point, the sun is shining down on her face and reflecting off her pearly white teeth. I find myself staring at them and can almost swear that they're blinding me.

The next hole really puts Mabel's strength to the test, as it consists of a single loop, like the kind on a roller coaster. Mabel sets the golf ball down and judges the distance between her and the loop. She strikes the ball hard and it spectacularly clears the loop and rolls into the hole.

Stan and I cheer again as Mabel throws her hands in the air and jumps up and down. I notice her breasts bouncing with her as she does so. Thankfully, she doesn't notice me noticing.

Mabel clears the rest of the holes with relative ease, her skills at hitting the ball and getting it to bounce off of walls to get it just in the right spot is flawless and her timing to get the ball past moving obstacles is impeccable. There's a hole centered around a medieval castle where the castle's draw bridge keeps opening and closing over a moat. Mabel hits the ball at the right moment and the ball makes it safely across the bridge and into the hole. There's also a hole that involves a pirate ship where Mabel has to hit the ball up a slope leading to the ship where it rolls into a hole leading to a cannon on the ship that blasts the ball across a small pond where it lands on the green and rolls into the cup.

Stan was right, those people who were too busy watching Pacifica really didn't know what they were missing.

We finally reach the last hole. It is a simple straight course with a windmill located in front of the hole. All Mabel has to do is get the ball past the windmill's moving blades into a tunnel where the hole is waiting at the other end of the course. I'm surprised that this is what they saved for the last hole; I would've expected something a little more challenging.

Mabel hits the ball and it barely makes it past one of the windmill's blades, it clears the tunnel and comes up just short of the hole.

"Darn." I hear Mabel say to herself.

She then strolls up to the ball and nonchalantly taps it into the hole.

"Great job, Mabel," Stan says "That's some of the best putting I've ever seen. Maybe you should be teaching me how to play golf."

"Yeah, Mabel, you looked like a pro out there," I add.

"Aww, shucks, Thanks guys," Mabel says, almost blushing. She then turns her attention to her score card and writes down the score from the last hole and then adds the number of strokes from each hole up to get the final score. She then hands her card to one of the officials and we wait for them to review the cards before announcing the winner of the competition.

...

My eyes look over the crowd of people standing around waiting to hear the results, too. Several of them have nervous looks on their faces, some look discouraged, as if they know their scores weren't good enough. I then notice Pacifica and she looks arrogant, standing straight, grinning, not a care in the world. I notice two adults with similar postures standing behind her, a man and a woman. They've got to be her parents. The man is tall with short, dark-brown hair and a mustache. The woman is thin with light brown hair and big, pink lips that look inflated. All three of their appearances makes me want to shudder. I then turn my attention to Mabel, she has a determined look on her face, even though what happens now is out of her hands.

Soon, a man steps up in front of the crowd to announce the winner.

"After reviewing the score cards, we are happy to announce that the winner of the Twenty-Third Annual Royal Junior Putt-Putt competition is… Pacifica Northwest."

The announcement is followed by applause as everyone turns to the blonde girl to congratulate her. She cockily struts up to one of the officials who hands her a trophy. She turns on her heels to face the crowd of people who are still cheering and poses as a short man wearing a press fedora takes her picture.

I watch the spectacle with my mouth hanging open. I then turn to Mabel, she's looking down at the ground with a frown, the look of sheer determination she had on her face a few seconds ago is nowhere to be found.

Stan places a hand on her shoulder, "Hey, kid, don't worry about it. You showed some real heart out there. I'm proud of you."

She doesn't say anything, she only nods.

I try to look for the right thing to say to comfort Mabel as well, but can't think of anything, instead I start to reach over to put a hand on one of her shoulders as well, but before I can, I hear a voice say, "Excuse me." We all three turn to see one of the competition officials standing before us.

"You're Mabel Pines, correct?"

"Yeah," she says.

"Great," he says, "Well, I'm sure you're aware that whoever won this competition would be guaranteed an automatic entry into the Gravity Falls Junior Golf Competition, right?"

"Yeah," Mabel says, sounding dejected, as if this person were rubbing Pacifica's victory in her face.

"Well, seeing as though she has already entered and been accepted into that competition, the automatic entry goes to the person who came in second place, and that's you."

"Really?" Mabel says, practically shouting, the forlorn look she previously had on her face vanishing quickly.

"Yep," he says and hands her a piece of paper that I assume consists of details of the competition as well as an official invitation.

Mabel is back to her beaming self; Stan and I are smiling as well. My sister thanks the official what feels like a million times and even hugs him, the guy just stands there with an awkward smile on his face as Stan practically has to pry her from him. Once he manages to succeed, she begins to jump up and down.

"Oh, man, this is so exciting!" She squeals.

"It sure is," Stan says. "How's about we go grab a bite to eat at Hermanos Brothers to celebrate?"

"Heck yeah!" Mabel says, raising a fist in the air.

As the three of us begin to head out, I take one last look at Pacifica, she's standing with her parents who are mingling with a few remaining spectators, probably bragging about how perfect their daughter is. Our eyes meet and there's a brief flash of disgust on her face before she huffs and turns away.

I'm not looking forward to Mabel having to compete with her again, but who knows? Maybe the outcome of their next match will be different.


	5. The Date

A Year to Remember

Chapter 5: The Date

September 8, 2014

It's the end of the school day on a Monday; I'm wanting to go straight to my locker, grab my things and head home with Mabel to prepare myself for the four remaining weekdays before the schedule eventually resets for the week after that, and the week after that, and the week after that, and so on. Instead, I'm standing in the school's hallway, nameless fellow students and a few adults passing me by. The uniformity I had envisioned has been thwarted by the girl standing in front of me.

I instantly regret using the word thwarted. After all, this girl is putting herself out there, leaving her comfort zone. All just to ask me a question that I'm sure is really important to her. How would I like it if I put myself out there for a girl and her instant thought was that I was throwing a wrench into her schedule of doing the same thing over and over again every day? The answer: not very much.

The girl standing in front of me is Candy Chui, her usually pale face has gone red with blushing and she's nervously rubbing her hands. She bumped into me on my way to my lockers – can't help but feel that she did it on purpose – and said Hi to me, to which I responded to with a casual Hey, Candy.

When she didn't respond, I asked her if she was okay.

"Oh, uh, yeah," she said, still not moving.

More awkward silence followed.

"So... Uh… Guess I'll just be on my—"

"Do you want to go to homecoming with me?" she said, her words coming out fast.

And that's why I'm at where I'm at now, practically at a loss for words. Candy, my sister's friend, is asking me to homecoming. I feel like my mind should be racing, but it's actually moving pretty slow. Candy is a nice girl – a little quirky, but nice. And I'll admit, she is pretty. Not that I've exactly paid it much thought. I then begin to wonder why she's asking me this now. Does she have a crush on me? If so, for how long? Does Mabel know? In the corner of my eye, I notice two faces peeking behind the corner of a wall. My eyes shift to them and they quickly disappear behind the corner. I blow air out of my nose in amusement, I recognized the faces that were peering at me; they belonged to Mabel and Grenda. That pretty much answers my question.

I begin to imagine Candy confiding in Mabel that she likes me and Mabel telling her to go for it. Or what if Mabel thinks I'm jealous that she has a date to homecoming, and I don't and that's why I've been somewhat distant lately and decided to have Candy ask me out? Gosh, I certainly hope that that's not the case. It wouldn't be the first time she's tried to hook me up with someone. At my old school, if I so much as said two words to a girl, Mabel would instantly try to play matchmaker and try to get us to hookup. I always had to shut her down, but she'd keep on trying until the girl(s) that she was trying to match me with said that she wasn't interested, which would leave me feeling embarrassed (and a little hurt).

More seconds pass as I look for the right thing to say. Can't act too quickly or I might end up saying something that hurts Candy. Would she be offended if I asked her if my sister put her up to this? Would I destroy her and Mabel's friendship if I turned her down? By that, I mean would Candy be too embarrassed to hang out with Mabel anymore because of the fact that her brother rejected her?

I can't think of anything that could lead to a positive outcome in this situation.

All I know is that I should probably say something, Candy's face looks so red that it might explode.

"Me?" I finally say, pointing to myself. It's a stupid thing to say. Who else could she be asking?

She nods.

"Gosh… Well… I mean…" I'm rubbing the back of my neck now.

"I—It's okay if you don't want to," she says.

No, no. I'm not saying that." Darn it. Why did I say that?

A glimmer of hope flashes over Candy's face.

"I'm just… not very big on that whole… homecoming thing. With the dancing and…"

"You don't have to dance," Candy says. "We can just go there and, just… You know, hang out and stuff."

"Hang out? We could just do that at my house, it's not like we need a special occasion or anything." I jokingly say, but Candy doesn't seem to find the humor in it as she looks to the ground. I quickly try to save face. "But I suppose a dance would be a nice change of pace."

Candy lifts her head, eyes gleaming with newfound optimism. "Does that mean you'll go with me?"

Looks like there's no going back now. I give her the answer that seals my fate: "Sure."

Candy squeals and wraps her arms around me. I just stand there awkwardly, not returning the gesture. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't because my arms are pinned to my sides.

Candy must sense my uneasiness because she quickly withdraws and steps back. "Sorry, I should have asked first."

"It's fine. Don't worry about it," I tell her.

Before either of us can say another word, another voice fills the air. "Hey, guys! What's going on?"

I look to see Mabel and Grenda approaching.

"I, too, would like to know what's going on." Grenda says, trying way too hard to sound oblivious as to what Candy and I are doing.

"Dipper said yes!" Candy excitedly announces.

Mabel and Grenda both gasp and then squeal.

"This is so exciting!" Mabel says. "My brother and one of my best friends going to homecoming together. Oh, you two will look so cute together.

"Dibs on being the maid of honor at your wedding," Grenda says.

Mabel laughs, I rub the back of my neck, and Candy's face goes bright red again.

The walk home is long and awkward, Mabel and her friends talk excitedly amongst themselves about homecoming, Candy even tries to talk to me about random things I'm not really interested in. I try to sound interested at least. She's my date to homecoming, the least I can do is make an effort to listen to her. I nod and respond to everything she says, trying hard not to make my enthusiasm sound artificial.

It's a great relief when we reach the juncture where Candy and Grenda go their own separate ways from my sister and me.

After a few seconds pass, Mabel turns to me and says, "Isn't this exciting? You and me both have dates to homecoming."

"Yeah," I say, because what else am I supposed to say? "I didn't know Candy liked me like that."

"How could she not? You're so awesome and cute." Mabel playfully pokes my cheek and I lightly swat her hand away. "I'll bet this is the start of a budding relationship."

"Maybe… I don't know." I say.

The smile on Mabel's face slightly falters. "What do you mean?"

"I like Candy, I really do, but I'm not sure if I like her like that."

"Then why did you agree to go with her to homecoming?"

"I guess I just didn't want to hurt her feelings."

Mabel stops walking and turns her entire body to face me, placing her hands on her hips. "So, you think not being honest with her was your best course of action?"

I stop as well and turn to face Mabel. "I – I don't know? It was just so sudden. Like I said, I didn't know she liked me like that."

"Well, she does. So, I think you owe it to her to be up front about how you really feel."

I want to sigh hard right now. It hasn't even been half an hour since I agreed to go to homecoming with Candy and already it's causing unnecessary drama. "It's not like I absolutely didn't want to go. If that were the case, I would have told her that I wasn't interested."

Cars are passing us by. A dog on the other side of the wooden fence right beside us starts barking causing me to flinch ever so slightly. Mabel doesn't budge an inch, though; she just continues to scrutinize me. I can see my reflection in her brown eyes, I wonder what she sees in mine.

"Look, it's just a dance," I say. "It doesn't mean anything. Candy even said herself that me and her can go just to hang out."

"Just a dance?" Mabel says, taking offense.

I mentally swear. Wishing I could go back in time a few seconds ago to when Mabel called me cute.

"Well… Yeah," I say, digging my hole deeper. "The first in a long line of many. So, I don't see why you have to put so much stock into this first one."

"Because it's our first dance," Mabel says, "Something fun that the both of us can do together, and I want you to enjoy it as much as I'm sure I will. What's the fun in doing something if you feel like you have to do it?"

"Well, sorry I'm not as excited as you are, Mabel." I don't mean for the sentence to come out as harsh as it does, but it does. The expression on Mabel's face goes from unhappy to hurt. She turns her gaze down and begins to walk briskly away.

"Mabel, wait," I start after her. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean—"

"Don't talk to me, Dipper," she says, giving me a sideways glance. "You have lost your talking-to-Mabel privileges."

"Mabel…"

"I can't hear you," she says, pressing her hands against her ears and speeding up her pace.

I have to lightly jog after her the whole way home. When we do get home, she swings the front door open and throws her backpack to the ground.

"Hey, kiddos. How was school?" I hear our great uncle say to us from the den.

"Where are the golf balls?" Mabel says, without even stopping to turn and face him. It's a rhetorical question, she already knows where the golf balls are. She most likely just wanted to convey to our Gruncle Stan that she was angry by having him judge the tone of her voice.

I appear a second later and turn to face my great uncle, he's perched on his recliner and has a slightly bewildered look on his face.

"What's with her?" he says.

I awkwardly shrug my shoulders. Mabel appears a few seconds later carrying the bucket of golf balls and Stan's golf clubs.

"I need to take out my anger on these balls," she says, "don't bother me." She slams the door behind her.

I trudge over to the sofa in the den and plop my butt down with a sigh.

"Sheesh. Rough day at school?" Stan asks.

I let out another sigh and recount the last several minutes to my uncle. All the while we can hear Mabel grunting outside every time she swings her golf club; she even let's out a swear word or two which prompts Gruncle Stan to say: "Language" loud enough for her to hear.

"I don't know what to do," is how I end my retelling of events. "I like Candy, I really do, and I don't really mind going to this dance with her, but I just don't want it to go anywhere."

"Well, I mean, it's just a dance," Gruncle Stan says. "It's not like you're setting anything in stone."

"Right? That's what I'm saying. I don't see why Mabel has to get so worked up over this." In the back of my mind, I can't help but feel like a hypocrite for questioning what the big deal about homecoming is. After all, it wasn't but six days ago where I passed out after Mabel got asked to homecoming by someone who I don't even want to think about.

"Eh, you know how Mabel is, she gets easily hung up on romance. Plus, she cares about you and her friend and just wants you both to have a good time."

I don't say anything to that, I just make a humming sound to let my great uncle know that I hear what he's saying.

He continues, "Look, I'm sure Mabel will ease up soon. For now, just focus on getting ready for homecoming. When is it anyway?"

"The twenty-seventh," I tell him.

"The twenty-seventh, so, nineteen days away. Plenty of time to get ready. Maybe see if your good suit still fits you."

I don't say anything.

"And who knows? Maybe you and this Candy girl will end up hitting it off."

"I guess," I say, even though I feel like we won't.

The rest of the day is awkward. Mabel spends most of it ignoring me; she's quiet through dinner and hardly talks to me while we both do our homework, only acknowledging me when she needs help with a particular problem on her math homework. She spends the rest of her time texting on our cellphone, most likely Blake, I assume.

Soon, it's time for bed. Mabel is lying down facing the wall when I arrive in our room after brushing my teeth.

"Goodnight, Mabel," I say to her after I lie down in my own bed.

Goodnight," she says. There's no emotion in the way she says it.

"I love you," I then say.

There's a brief moment of silence.

"I love you, too," she says matter-of-factly, but I can tell she means it.

I smile to myself. This wouldn't be the first time Mabel and I have gone to bed after having an argument or being mad at each other, and it certainly won't be the last. But no matter how mad we get at each other sometimes; we always tell the other that we love them. After all, you never know when the last time you speak to a loved one, really will be the last time you speak to them.

I turn off the lamp next to my bed, casting the room in total darkness before drifting off to the land of slumber.

September 9, 2014

The next morning comes with the usual blaring of my sister's alarm clock. We both arise at the same time and look at each other after Mabel shuts off the alarm. There's an awkward moment of silence as we both make eye contact.

"Good morning," Mabel says. There's no exuberance in the way she says it. She doesn't sound upset or mad or anything, she just sounds like she's unsure of how to feel.

"Good morning," I say back to her. "…Did you sleep well?"

She nods her head. "Yeah… Did you?"

"Yep…" I say.

Mabel responds by nodding her head some more and looking down at her blanket.

"So…" I start, "You wanna go ahead and get in the shower first?"

Mabel shrugs. "If you insist."

I watch as she gets out of bed, grabs her towel and clothes, then leaves the room. A few seconds later, I hear the shower start running. I lie my head back down on my pillow and stare up at the ceiling. My mind wanders. I think of how Mabel and I fought yesterday. I think of homecoming. I think of how I'm going to spend it with Candy. I think of how Mabel is going to spend it with Blake. I picture the two of them dressed nicely. I picture them both dancing, of Mabel having the time of her life, laughing and loving every moment she spends with Blake, while I stand around awkwardly in the background watching it all go down. Helpless. I don't know what Blake's dancing skills are like, but I know that I can't dance to save my life. I think of all the times Mabel would try to get me to dance with her whenever she'd listen to one of her favorite songs; how I'd just smile awkwardly and shake my head, which would lead to her taking my hand and trying to get me to shake it and not break it, which would always lead to me falling all over myself.

I huff and shake those last few thoughts out of my head. No way, I'm going to let that Blake guys show me up in front of Mabel. I get up out of my bed and make my way to the closet. I shuffle clothes around eventually finding what I'm looking for.

Mabel eventually returns, hair still damp. "Your turn," she says and looks to my bed to see that I'm not there. She turns her head to where I'm standing and a mixture of bewilderment and amusement forms on her face. "You're not wearing that to school, are you?"

Standing before her, I'm wearing a black button up suit, complete with a tie.

"No," I say, "I just figured I might as well see if this suit still fits me. After all, I'm gonna need it for homecoming."

Mabel's face lights up. "Really?" she says, and then throws her arms around me when I smile and nod. She then steps back and looks me up and down. The smile on her face begins to fade ever so slightly, but it's enough for me to notice.

"Everything okay?" I ask.

"Oh, yeah," Mabel says, "It's just that… I'm sorry about yesterday. I hope I didn't…"

"Mabel, you've got nothing to be sorry about," I say. "I was a jerk; I shouldn't have been so insensitive with how I handled things yesterday.

"I just don't want you to feel like you have to do this for my or Candy's sake?"

"Nah, I want to do this," I tell her. "I gotta socialize more, it could do me some good. Plus, it's something we can do together."

The smile returns to full force on Mabel's face and she hugs me again. I return the gesture by putting my arms around her and pressing my body against hers as much as I can. My body starts to respond to Mabel's touch as my nether regions start to become firm.

Oh no. I think to myself and try to discreetly shift my lower half away from Mabel. She must feel me shift, though, because she soon disengages from the hug.

"Ooh, your hugs sure are getting better, Dipper," she says.

I just smile and nod some more. Back then, whenever Mabel would hug me, I'd just place a hand on her upper back and pat her with my other hand. We'd call it an awkward sibling hug, but with that last hug, I felt the need to hold onto Mabel and never let go.


End file.
